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Message-ID: <45738asstr$1070799004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Carlos Malenkov <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com>
Reply-To: cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Laplace Transform  (MF MM anal sf)
Date: Sun,  7 Dec 2003 07:10:04 -0500
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LAPLACE TRANSFORM
by Carlos Malenkov
Word Count: 2541

This was an early, fumbling attempt at writing science fiction. It doesn't
quite work as a story, but it has its interesting points.






I can't help wondering what it would be like having sex with a man.

Gina and I have a stable and loving relationship. We've been together
a couple of years now, and the sex is still pretty good. Otherwise we
get along quite well, except for occasional arguments about money.

Last night we were making love. She was on her hands and knees, and I
had my dick deep in her pussy and was reaching around rubbing her clit.
At that very intense moment, just starting to spiral upward toward orgasm,
I began imagining what it would feel like as a gay man, with a dick deep
up my ass, plunging in and out. This powerful fantasy took possession
of me and I exploded in mind-shattering ecstasy.

Everyone who knows me considers me the quintessential straight man,
as hetero as they come. But I have these unfulfilled needs. And strange
dreams . . .



I can't help wondering what it would be like having sex with a woman.

Gene and I have a stable and loving relationship. We've been together
a couple of years now, and the sex is still pretty good. Otherwise we
get along quite well, except for occasional arguments about money.

Last night we were making love. I was on my hands and knees, and he
had his dick deep in my ass and was reaching around rubbing my dick.
At that very intense moment, just starting to spiral upward toward orgasm,
I began imagining what it would feel like as a straight man, with my dick
deep up a woman's pussy, plunging in and out. This powerful fantasy took
possession of me and I exploded and I exploded in mind-shattering ecstasy.

Everyone who knows me considers me as the quintessential gay man, as queer
as they come. But I have these unfulfilled needs. And strange dreams . . .



There is a class of differential equations that yield to what is known
as a "Laplace Transform." This essentially means shifting things into
a drastically different context, where the kinks and complexities of
the problem in question unravel and simplify. Then it's just a matter
of flipping the solution back to the original context.

Think of it as temporarily visiting a different framework, with a
different set of rules. Rules that permit doing and making impossible
things . . . impossible in your home universe, that is. Now if only you
could bring a few of those impossible things back . . .



I caught a glance of myself in the mirror yesterday. For a split-second
I thought my eyes had changed color. My blue eyes turned gray? No! It
must have been my imagination.



I caught a glance of myself in the mirror yesterday. For a split-second
I thought my eyes had changed color. My gray eyes turned blue? No! It
must have been my imagination.



I dreamed. I dreamed I had a male lover next to me in bed (I wonder what
Gina would think of *that*?). I dreamed he was softly stroking my ass,
then probing with a gentle finger between my cheeks. Gently inserting
the finger into me a little way. It was heating me up. There was a deep
trembling within me as the tension built up inside. My dick was hard,
rock hard. Now he was massaging slippery coldness onto my . . . opening
. . . hole . . . asshole. I ached for him. I wanted, I needed him to
fill me. Then I felt the warmth of a hand softly stroking my ass, and
I awakened next to . . .

. . . a stranger.



I dreamed. I dreamed I had a female lover next to me in bed (I wonder
what Gene would think of *that*?). I dreamed she was softly stroking
my dick . . . and . . . and . . .

I awakened next to a stranger. It was a woman! A *woman*! I must have
screamed aloud in terror, because she was trying to hug me. To comfort me?

"You must have had a nightmare, darling. It'll be all right. Let me
hold you."

I recoiled in horror. What was this WOMAN, this NAKED WOMAN doing here
in my home? IN MY BED! Where was Gene? I grabbed my pants and ran.

How could I let myself be driven out of my own home? Who was that woman?
Damn it, I *knew* who she was. It was the woman I'd dreamed about. The
one I'd been making love to in a dream. But I was awake now and this
was real! Wasn't it?



Who was this MAN beside me? He had his hands on my ass! I must still be
dreaming! This was the guy from my dreams.

Well, no reason to get particularly upset. If this were still a dream,
might as well enjoy it. I *was*, after all, curious about gay sex.
Dreaming about it had aroused strangely powerful feelings in me. What
would it be like to be the one fucked? Having a man's dick inside my
ass -- what would it feel like? Would it hurt? Could I possibly get
pleasure from it? Well, here I was with a man's hand on my ass and a
raging hardon. What the hell, it was only a dream.

It didn't hurt at all. The guy somehow opened me up with his fingers
and patiently helped me relax when I tensed up. Releasing sphincter
tension is surprisingly easy . . . if you have a knowing lover to show
you how. He used plenty of lube, and that helped him slide right in.

Actually, I have to admit I rather enjoyed it. After a while my
imagination took over, and I was thinking this must be how Gina feels
with my dick plunging in and out of her pussy. . . filling her. Filling
ME. Damn, I liked being filled. The stretched open feeling. The sliding
friction. Then the fulfillment with its shuddering release and the
oceanic, free-floating cosmic feeling. It was quite a bit more intense
than being on the other side. Other side?

I'm starting to think maybe this isn't a dream. I'm fully awake now.
These eggs sure taste real. The sausage is quite spicy. I'm sitting at the
breakfast table with this stranger. His name is Gene and he knows me. He's
been my lover for several years now, he says. My strange behavior when
I awoke disturbed him a little, but then I've been acting weird for a
couple of weeks now in the morning right after waking up. He's a pretty
fair cook.

Come to think of it, Gene looks vaguely familiar. Temperamentally,
he's like a male version of Gina. He even resembles her physically in
very disconcerting ways. They could have been twins, actually. And yes,
it seems to me I've been dreaming about him for some time now. I guess
I've somehow crossed over. Crossed over into a dream. A dream world.



I'm back home now, sitting at the kitchen table calmly discussing the
matter with Gina. She reminds me of Gene in some ways, and yes, she's
been haunting my dreams. For a woman, she's not too bad. I could get
used to her. I suppose.

Of course she knows about the strange dreams I'd been having. My other
self, previous inhabitant of this body, had been confiding in her. She
thinks I'm under the influence of a powerful delusion, but she's willing
to humor me. Her *love* for me (or the person I'm the impostor of)
will heal me.  So she thinks. She can cook every bit as well as Gene.
Eggs and sausage, ah.



Gene thinks I'm crazy. But he says it's that wild and crazy streak that
attracted him to "me" in the first place. That and my fine, tight little
buns. Those fine, tight little buns he had fucked just a few minutes ago.

We were listening to the news over breakfast. The radio was a huge wooden
console that looked like the sets people used to have sixty or seventy
years ago. It took a minute before any sound came out. Since when did
radios need to warm up? Then it dawned on me. This was a tube model
radio! Vacuum tubes.

Did Gene collect antique radios? Nope, this was a current model, only a
year old. Tubes? Of course. Every radio had them, even the experimental
televiewers being talked about. Televiewers? Did he mean televisions?
Experimental? So, this world, this particular universe didn't have solid
state electronics. No transistors. No integrated circuits. Only very
slow and bulky primitive computers. No lasers. No miniaturized electronic
devices. It was like 1950 again. But with one very important difference.

The biological and medical sciences here seemed far ahead of the world I
knew. There was a remedy for the common cold. For that matter, there was
an effective vaccine for virtually every infectious disease. AIDS? You
could buy the *cure* for that over the counter at the corner drugstore
(a single dose of Volny-Ristock virophages knocked it out quite nicely).
Overpopulation? Male birth control pills were making a significant dent
in that particular problem. Old age? Effective aging retardants were in
the pipeline. Scientists expected the average life span to reach 150 years
eventually. There were some definite benefits to being in this world.



Gina thinks I'm crazy. But she says it's that wild and crazy streak that
attracted her to "me" in the first place. That and my fine, tight little
buns. Those fine, tight little buns she'd no doubt like to fondle as I
make love to her. Make love to her, hmmm, now there's a thought. For a
woman, she's actually pretty special.

It wasn't as bad as I expected. When I panicked, just getting ready to
put myself into her, she took me in her arms, cradled my head on her
breasts, and just rocked me. It was like being a baby again. Warm and
soft and comforting. I must have fallen asleep for a few minutes because
she awakened me with a soft kiss. My hardon was back. This time I got it
into her. Inside, she felt nice and slick and warm. Sort of like being
inside Gene's ass on those rare occasions when he felt like bottoming. I
could easily get used to this. Very easily.

She's a good cook. The eggs were just the way I like them, soft and
buttery, with no hint of salt. Then she turned on the news and I almost
fell out of my chair. It was a tiny moving picture viewer. I'd heard of
experimental televiewers, but this one was small enough to hold in the
palm of my hand. When I got over my shock, I began listening to what the
news announcer -- "anchorman," Gina called him -- had to say. Something
about an AIDS epidemic. AIDS? It couldn't be. You could buy a vial of
pills at the corner drugstore that would completely cure you of that in a
week. Don't even need a prescription. In my own world, that is. But here?

I still can't believe it. They've got all sorts of electronic marvels
here. Gina showed me something called a "laptop computer" that's *way*
beyond any of the big monster calculating machines I've ever heard of. And
she had bought it for the equivalent of a week's wages! That little toy
is thousands of times more powerful than anything available in the best
research labs in my home universe. Just think of the possibilities.

The biological sciences, though, are primitive here. Infectious diseases.
Cancer. Catching colds, the flu, and getting cavities in your teeth.
Worrying about getting infected with something nasty every time you
have sex without a rubber sheath. The population problem. Going gray at
50 and dying of old age in your 80's. For all its advanced technology,
this place is a hellhole.

Wait a minute! I may not be a physician, but I do know something about
medicine. Enough to give the people here important clues toward a few
crucial discoveries. That could mean wealth. Fame. Maybe a Nobel Prize
or two. Certainly a more livable world.



Through a friend of Gene's, I managed to wangle an interview with an
engineering v.p. at Bell Telephone. The word "transistor" didn't ring
a bell with him, but he had heard of the Shockley-Bardeen experiments.

"Yep, Bill Shockley did some work here just after the war. He was fooling
around with crystals and what he called 'semi-conductors.' Too bad about
the fire in his lab that ruined all his work. He just lost heart after
that and took to drinking. We had to let him go. Last anyone heard he had
gone into show biz. Became a talk show host or something along that line."

When I enquired about pursuing that line of research, I hit a stone wall.

"Nope. We're not interested. Vacuum tube components work well enough for
our purposes. There's just no prestige in lab work in electronics. All
the bright boys want to go into bio research nowadays. That's where all
the grant money's flowing."

I'm completely stymied. There go all my dreams of fame and wealth.
I have *had* it with this world. I want to go home. Home!



Gina had a sister-in-law who just happened to know a vice president
of a major pharmaceutical firm. Dr. Williston graciously accepted our
dinner invitation.

"Don't bother with titles. Just call me Bill. Yes, you have some
intriguing ideas about anti-viral agents. I'd have to advise you to
back off, though. You just don't have the right background to make a
contribution in the field. Nowadays in pharmacology . . . and medicine
and biology for that matter, credentials and connections and how many
papers you've published mean everything. Everything. Even if you had a
stroke of genius, no one would listen. Forget it."

I'm completely stymied. There go all my dreams of fame and wealth.
I have *had* it with this world. I want to go home. Home!



I dreamed. I dreamed I was in back in my own world. Back in bed with my
own Gina, my lover. Then my eyes opened.



I dreamed. I dreamed I was in back in my own world. Back in bed with my
own Gene, my lover. Then my eyes opened.



I awakened next to Gina, my woman. Was the whole thing just a dream? Gene,
and getting fucked in the ass, and the cure for AIDS? Did it really
matter? I had learned quite a bit about myself.

Gina held me at arm's length and gave me a strange look. Then she hugged
me and cried. "You! I'll never let you go."

I realize now how much I love her.



I awakened next to Gene, my man. Was the whole thing just a dream? Gina,
and fucking a woman's vagina, and portable computers? Did it really
matter? I had learned quite a bit about myself.

Gene held me at arm's length and gave me a strange look. Then he hugged
me and cried. "You! I'll never let you go."

I realize now how much I love him.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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